Persephone Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief
by CookieMonster9780
Summary: Persephone Jackson, more commonly know as Percy, has just been thrown into the world of monsters and Gods. Will she be able to get her drama queen uncle's lightning bolt back before it's to late? Fem!Percy Girl!Percy Good!Luke Evil!Annabeth Luke/Percy Lukercy -Read AN at the beginning of the first chapter- *Will develop more of a unique twist when she gets to camp*
1. Vaporizing Math Teachers

**I posted this story (only the first chapter) before and it was erased somehow so just incase you realize you have read the first chapter and think I stole it from another author I did NOT, i'm just reposting my work from earlier.**

_**Wattpad information: **_

_**Story name- Persephone Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief **_

_**Username (Author/me)- Monster9780**_

**This is a normal Fem!Percy story! Good!Luke Evil!Annabeth... Luke will be only 2 years older than Percy in this, because seriously if he was 17 and she was 12 it would be weird. **

**The plot will not overly change. It will obviously be altered for things like: Luke replacing Annabeth, Percy being a girl, and her being smart, but the plot will not change. She will still face the same problems and go to the same places, but she will have different reactions and handle them a bit differently.****  
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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson and the olympians! It belongs to the amazing Rick Riordan!**

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**I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER**

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. At all.

But its a fate you can't ignore.

If you are one of us any normal half-blood with any common sense would tell you to close this book and stop reading. To stay hidden, and not to drawn attention to yourself.

But the thing is i'm not normal even by demigod standards, and I have given this a lot of thought. I have come to the conclusion that if you are a half-blood there is no point in hiding, the will find you and they will try to kill you.

That is why I am telling you to keep reading instead of stopping. You need to know what's out there instead of trying to stay ignorant if it. Knowing might limit the time you have to be normal, but it will give you a better chance of survival, and that's what you should be more worried about.

Being a half-blood is dangerous.

It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If your a normal kid worrying about what time a TV show airs or studying because your worried about a test, read on! You'll think its fiction, and get on with your life, but if you feel your stomach churning read carefully and hang on to every detail, it will be a large factor in weather you live... or you die.

My name is Percy Jackson. Ok Well technically it's Persephone, but it's too fancy for me so I shorten it down to Percy.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid?

Not exactly. Please note the 'exactly' part. Bad things tend to happen around me, but I will explain that later.

I could start at any point in my life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were, but I actually love museums. I know what your thinking _Oh my god she's such a nerd! Who likes museums! _But I really do! They fascinate me seeing how people lives hundreds or even thousands of years ago. Also Mr. Brunner was leading the trip so that made it even better.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. I want one! He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee (which I would like to point out is an amazing smell).

You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this collection of Roman armor and weapons, that he used to use as examples in class! We had sword fights in class, with dulled edges of course, and I had a wonderful time beating the crap out of the idiot jocks in my class.

I just hoped for once nothing bad would happen this time.

You see, bad things tend to happen to me on field trips.

Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway.

And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind- the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

This trip, I was determined to be danger free. A good-girl. A perfect princess... Ok well not a princes... the point is I was going to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich. Seriously! A peanut butter-ketchup sandwich? Who eats that!

But back to Grover he was an easy target i'll give her that.

He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. And on top of all that, he was crippled. Of course there is nothing wrong with that, but to bullies that makes him like a steak to a dog.

He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. I wish I had a note. I asked him to break my leg once to get me out...He said no...

He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria. I don't really know what his obsession is with them. To me Mexican food is disgusting. Italian food for the win!

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair (amazing hair by the way who would want to mess it up?), and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation.

The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

And what happened to get me on probation wasn't even entirely my fault! I accidentally tripped and spilt marbles on the floor and he just had to come walking by and slip! Technically it was his fault for not looking where he was going, but nooo I get blamed.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumbled.

Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter."

"So do I but not in my hair," I growled as he dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I started to get up, but Grover pulled me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminded me smirking. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

"Oh shut up Grover," I said trying to act annoyed but the smile on my face gave me away.

Looking back on it, I wish I'd decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. In-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into. Don't get me wrong it still would have sucked, but it would have sucked less than what was about to happen.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black and orange pottery.

It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years. The details were amazing, and they could each tell a story.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age.

He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker.

And please note the 'Mrs.' in front of her name. Really! Who in their right mind would marry that woman.

She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. And I swear it wasn't because of me!

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month. Which is completely unfair!

And one time, after she'd made me complete one of the worst punishments on Earth, erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human.

He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Then seemed to realized what he said and his eyes got REALLY big. I being the completely oblivious idiot I am, did not notice tell I thought back to it later when I knew. 'About what' you may be thinking. Well sucks for you. You'll have to wait just like I did.

While Mr. Brunner was talking about Greek funeral art, Nancy Bobofit finally lost her ok-streak and snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and hissed, "Will you shut up?"

It came out louder than I meant it to, but then again doesn't everything come out louder than you mean it to when your whispering?

The whole group laughed, and Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Ms. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

I was trying to keep my face from lighting up like an apple... lets just say I was fighting a losing battle. After I finally got my composure back I said, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I looked at the carving, and instantly recognized it. It was one of my favorite stories, Kronos was afraid of his kids, so he eliminated the threat even if the threat was his kids. In my opinion he was a total ass, but the story had a good ending and i'm a sucked for those. "That's Kronos eating his kids."

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." Well technically he only asked what the picture was so I answer his question.

"Kronos was the Titan King, and he didn't trust his children, so he ate them to prevent them from doing anything untrustworthy before it happened. Hera finally came up with a way to save one of her children by giving Kronos a rock instead of her son, Zeus.

Which in heinz sight is very stupid of him not to notice that he was eating a rock. When Zeus grew up he fed his father a substance to make him throw up, and out came the five children he ate, but they were now fully grown and had a grudge against him.

When they got out as you could expect they were angry, and that he had eaten them, and that resulted in a war, which the gods won. So in eliminating a POTENTIAL threat Kronos created one."

This obviously shocked the class. I, although I love school, am somewhat of a class clown. Mr. Brunner was less shocked, but obviously surprised at my detailed by my description.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Ms. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered as I smiled at him.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. Which was very hard to do. Take my word for it.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears. Seriously, I would kill for that kind of hearing.

I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." Then I suddenly I thought of something and smirked, "I guess if you were looking for a job as. Oh I don't know a Latin teacher."

That got the class laughing, even Mr. Brunner cracked a smile. Mrs. Dodds on the other hand looked creepy as always.

Full credit Miss Jackson! Very well done, and great answer to Miss Bobofit's if I do say so my self," he said while winking at me, "On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses like always. Don't get me wrong I don't mind guys, but boys at Nancy are... how do I put this nicely... special. Apart from Grover of course.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Miss Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I told Grover to keep going, and to save me seat. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me.

"About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh." Ya, I guess my answer didn't exactly cut it.

"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

Wow no pressure there. Please note the sarcasm. I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was awesome on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk (again dulled edges), to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped.

But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C- in my life.

I love history and I'm smarter than the average bear, but the disorders aren't exactly great for learning. I only know the stories from when my mom used to read them to me, or when I take an extremely long time reading them on my own.

Actually no he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while trying to keep my sarcastic comments in. I don't deal well with being reprimanded ok?

Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral, then told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class was gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue. Great entertainment there.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Mean! Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, key word there 'trying', and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school: the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked. "Nah," I said. "Not from Mr. B. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean I'm not a genius."

Grover snorted at that, "You are pretty smart Perce. You just don't get the chance to show it that often, and don't even think of denying it i've seen the audiobooks on your iPod. There physics, and engineering books!

We're in sixth-grade Percy! Those are high school level books!"

"Just like to read," I mumbled looking at the floor.

Grover didn't say anything for a while after that. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to finish it off, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

Good old Grover for you, giving me this whole speech about me being some sort of genius and then just dropping the subject and asking for my apple.

Whatever, I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it as I smiled at him.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too.

She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me. It was like she was a lost puppy!

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table.

I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends-I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists-and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray- painted her face with liquid Cheetos. And if you don't want to ruin Cheetos for the rest of your life, think of them as an orange highlighter.

I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Well... Guess the counting didn't work...

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering:

"Did you see-"

"-the water-"

"-like it grabbed her-"

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again. Great.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester, which by the way she probably had. "Now, honey-"

"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks." That probably wasn't the best thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death. Not that I wasn't thankful, but I couldn't let my only friend get in trouble because of me.

"No it wasn't!"

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. "Your friend seems to disagree with you there, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But-" I shot him a look and he soon quieted.

"You. Will. Stay. Here."

Grover looked at me desperately, but I ignore the look and gave him a small smile, and turned on my heel to leave.

When Mrs. Dodds yelled, "Honey." I turned back to face her and she barked at me, "Now." Nancy Bobofit smirked, and I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. I've been told it was scary, and it seemed to do the trick on Nancy.

Then I turned back again to face Mrs. Dodds who had walked ahead of me, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

Who knew old ladies could move so fast? Maybe she had a Segway! I've always wanted a Segway! Or maybe I just wasn't paying attention.

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I went after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop. But apparently that wasn't the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it... I wouldn't be surprised. She tends to lash out a lot.

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I did the safe thing.

I said, "Yes, ma'am." She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me.

I said, "I'll-I'll try harder, ma'am." Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she was talking about.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. It's a stupid rule too! Kids have to have candy it's a requirement!

Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book. That would be torture for my dyslexic brain!

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger if you can believe it.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air. Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something. Nah. I'm allergic to mushrooms. I would have noticed. I'm probably just stressed out. Ya that's it.

I went back outside. It had started to rain. Again.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I said, "Who?" "Our teacher. Duh!" I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I told him. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, read-ing his book, as if he'd never moved.

I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Miss Jackson."

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at me blankly. "Who?" "The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

I didn't answer and walked back to Grover thinking about what had just happened, or seem to have happened, over and over again in my head.

**Please comment!**


	2. Funeral Flowers

**Again Please comment! If you see any mistakes please tell me so that I can fix them! **

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**THREE OLD LADIES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH **

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty- four/seven hallucination was a bit more than I could handle.

For the remainder of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of practical joke on me.

The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr an extremely perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho. Which it is very possible I was considering no one seemed to remember Miss Dodds

It got so I almost believed them Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was lying; he was never a good lier, and when it came to lying to me he seemed to get even worse at it.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I just hope it wasn't me fainting, losing my memory of the past year, and having it replaced with an extremely vivid dream where Mrs. Dodds was our evil math teacher.

Ya... that seems unlikely, but I guess it's more likely than her turning into a giant bat thing, trying to kill me, and then everyone forgetting about her.

Both of those make se sound pretty crazy, but you know my life is pretty messed up.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the day, and when I was sleeping nightmares of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat. I'm not a very girly person (more of a lets go play soccer in the rain type of person) so you can imagine how disgusting it was when I say it was gross.

The weird weather continued, which actually helped my mood. I work and sleep much better during a thunderstorm, but it can get to be too much when it blew out the windows in my dorm room one night.

A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. Which, by the way REALLY sucked.

We had to stay in that uncomfortable crouching position with books over our head in the hall way, and to make it worse I was in between two idiots!

Grover was in pre-algebra while I was in geometry. Numbers were not affected by my dyslexia for some reason, so I was pretty good with them (Which doesn't help my argument with Grover about me being a genius). So we were on opposite sides of the hallway.** (I don't know if that's possible but just go with it) **

One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped, and called him an old sot. What? They're stupid and usless! When are we ever going to have to know how to spell 'adulation'? On top of that I have dyslexia! And I don't take back my insult either. He does smell like beer.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine. I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his idiotic poker parties.

And yet... there were things I'd miss at Yancy.

The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees.

I'd miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little strange. I worried how he'd survive next year without me. Not to be mean, but as I stated earlier, he was an easy target.

I'd miss Latin class, too Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and how passionate he was about teaching.

As exam week got closer, I tried to study, but I just kept getting headaches from reading. Even the sound of Grover reading me flashcards put me to sleep more than once, only to be later woken up from a water bottle being dumped on my head.

I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my latin final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one- eighties as if they were riding skateboards.

I think I had it down for the most part. I knew the difference between Chiron and Charon, but the spelling still got me mixed up when I didn't concentrate.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. Well that doesn't help calm my nerves at all.

I took a deep breath, and picked up the mythology book.

Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers.

The least I could do was thank him for being a great teacher while I was still here.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. Lucky me!

I was three steps from the door when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said "... worried about Percy, sir."

I froze.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to your teacher.

I inched closer.

"... alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing her," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the gir to mature more."

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice dead-line- "

"Will have to be resolved without her, Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can."

"Sir, Percy saw her... ."

"Her imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince her of that."

"Sir, Percy's smarter than you give her credit for. She holds back, and she knows when something is wrong... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion at the last sentence. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover, and even though Miss Jackson might show superb intellect, that does not mean the mist will not hide the fact that a Kindly One tried to kill her. She will forget about it in time and will think of it as a dream," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall-"

The mythology book almost dropped out of my hands,but I was just quick enough to catch it before it hit the floor. It did however, cause rustling noises.

Mr. Brunner went silent**. **I told you... Radar ears...

My heart hammered as I clutched the book to my chest and backed down the hall slowly and quietly.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher. It actually looked kind of like a horse. What. The. Hell. Why would Mr. Brunner and Grover have a horse in school?

The horse-shadow looked like it was holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow.

That's it I need to sleep.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face as I tried to stay as quiet as possible.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn ..."

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow." "Don't remind me." The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever although it was probably about 5 minutes before I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm.

When I walked past the boys dorm hall I saw Grover lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

"I hope so," I said smiling slightly trying not give away that I was eavesdropping on him just minutes before.

"You look awful." He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just... tired."

I turned so he couldn't read my expression. I was almost as bad at lying to him as he was to me. Key word there 'almost'.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing, but as much as I wanted that to be true I knew it wasn't.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. Crap.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's... it's for the best."

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was whispering, the room was so quiet that the other kids finishing the test could hear.

Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and was silently laughing at me from her seat.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir."

"I mean ..." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I didn't belong. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say ... you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be-"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me.

"Percy-" But I was already gone. On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other girls were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month.

They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities.

I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies.

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or working with Gena at Marco's, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the girls said. "That's cool." They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed. Mean!

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound. Maybe he's just car sick. No he would have mentioned it before. Wait a minute...

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha-what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh ... not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy ... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers ..."

Demon math teachers, huh, thats a new one.

"Grover-"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and ..."

I took my hand to cover his mouth so that I could get a word in, and said, "Grover, you're a really, really, really bad liar."

His ears turned pink, and he fished out a grubby business card from his pocket.

"Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half-" "Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um ... summer address."

My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy. I had nothing against rich people, but I had bad experieces with them.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or ... or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?" It came out harsher than I meant it to.

"That's not what I meant! I was just wondering whyI would _need_ you. I promise I won't get into trouble if that what your worried about! I would love to come to you house, mansion, thing to see you! I was just wondering why I would _need_ you! I swear I wasn't being mean! I was just curious and-"

This time it's Grover who had to put his hand over my mouth. Grover smirked at me with an amused smile on his face and his eyebrows raised.

Then he adopted a serious look and said, "Look, Percy, the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you."

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights (Verbal fights. Even the boys at Yancy wouldn't hit a girl and the girls were to worried about breaking a nail), keeping bullies away from him, while when the boys were being butts and kept asking me out he would hit them with his crutch.

It was a mutual agreement that was never spoken about. But were out of school now so...

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke rose from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs stuffed in kale. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road-no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars.

On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

"Hey Grover! Do you want some fruit? I'm going to go get some mangos." I had a weakness for mangos.

**I l**ooked over at Grover waiting for him to answer but the blood had drained from his face, and his nose was twitching.

"Grover? Hey! You ok? Your looking kind of pale. Let me go see if they have some water." Just as I started to walk off Grovers hand shot out to grab me by the wrist, but he just kept staring at the fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked pretty good: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of sharp-gray yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

Maybe Grover had a fear of old ladies!

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me.

"Grover?" I said looking back at my friend, who had seemed to have gotten worse. "Hey, man-"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?" I said trying to calm him down.

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors-gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on."

"What?" I said. "Grover you probably shouldn't move to much! You look like your going to pass out! The heat will just make it worse!."

"Come on!'" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back. I just couldn't make my feet move for some reason.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me.

The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic.

Her two friends balled up the sharp-grey socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for Sasquatch or Godzilla.

Sasquatch definitely. Godzilla's feet are the size of buildings. Sasquatches are just bigger than an any person's could be. Maybe that's what Grover is scared of! Bigfoot!

… Yep I'm losing it.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered. "Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat, and I was blinded by the sunlight reflecting off of his bald head.

"Everybody back on board!" Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the flu.

Grover didn't look much better.

He was shivering and his teeth were chattering. "Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling me?" I knew for a fact no one could get that sick in a span of 20 minutes. Something must have spooked him, and my ridiculous explanations seemed a little far fetched.

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like ... Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds.

But on the bright side Grover practically just admitted that there was a Mrs. Dodds and she was a monster thingy!

Damn... I imagined that I would feel a lot better when someone finally admitted Mrs. Dodds was real and a monster.

He said, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn."

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't.

It was something else, something almost-older. I think I've seen it before in a book.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord."

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to scare me. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could. He looked so sad and helpless I couldn't say no! Not to mention his puppy dog eyes!

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked. No answer. "Grover-that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already pick-ing the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

I like dandelions by the way! But only when they're white and puffy, and you can blow on one to make a wish.

I guess that wouldn't be a good flower for a funeral though so I guess white roses will have to do.

...Wait a second...

Why the hell am I thinking about what flowers I want at my funeral?


	3. Home Sweet Home

**Ok thank you to all the people following, favoriting, and commenting! (even if there are only two) _Shout out to Guest and__ Charlee56_ **

**And I got the idea for Percy speaking another language from another story I read about a year ago by another author, but the story seems to have been taken down. I was going to give credit and all that jazz but I don't remember who wrote it or maybe I just couldn't find it. If anyone happens to know who this author was or what the story was called please PM me or comment! **

**P.S.I'm pretty sure Fem!percy was called Andrea in this or something like that and she spoke spanish.**

**ALL TRANSLATIONS WILL BE BELOW**

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**3 GROVER UNEXPECTEDLY LOSES HIS PANTS **

Grover was kind of freaking me out on the way back to the apartment. He kept saying stuff like, "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to he sixth grade?"

It's impossible not to be a bit freaked.

Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom. Seriously, I don't break promises.

He must have had to really pee because it took him like 10 minutes. Dude's got a bladder in him.

Once Grover finally came out of the bathroom we started to walk home, because Grover still looked like throwing up and I doubt driving would make him feel any better.

On the way back to the our apartment Grover seemed to be getting better, he face regained some of it's color and he was walking normal...

Well as normal as he usually did with his crutches, but he kept flinching every time someone passed us. Which is saying something considering we're in Manhattan.

Now a word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck.

Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program.

Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting my bio dad.

I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. My mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures.

Which kind of sucks by the way. I want to know what he looked like even if I won't ever meet him.

See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret.

Hopefully this doesn't mean he was having an affair...

Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea. I think she was still holding out hope that one day he might come back to her.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

I was kicked out of too many schools, and because of my dyslexia and ADD public school would be torture for me. Not necessarily the homework.

Public school systems are easier than private and it is extremely easy now in private ones. **(I really don't know if this is true, but just go with it) **

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk.

His name is extremely ironic if you ask me. Have the name of an angel, but being so awful. I bet his parents are incredibly disappointed.

When I was young, I nick-named him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, I am not a very good nickname giver, but it fits him perfectly. Ok, maybe not perfect it's a bit of an understatement. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, and the way he and I got along... anyway back to Grover and I.

When we were a couple of buildings away from our apartment, I had Grover stop at my mom's friend's pizzeria called Benetton Pizzeria.

His name was Aldo Benettom, but every one called him Al.

He's an Italian in his mid twenties with short dark brown hair with soft spikes. (Think Taylor Lautner's hair) My mom used to babysit him when she was in high school, and when his dad died and left him the family pizzeria my mom helped him out when she had free time.

He's like an older brother to me teasing and all, and makes AMAZING pizza! Perfect deep dish think crust pizza with extra cheese. Yummmm.

"Percy! How was school my girl? I heard about you expulsion. I am so sorry, but maybe you just weren't meant for Yancy! You'll find a great one in no time! " Al shouted as walked out from behind the counter to pull me into a bear hug.

"Ally!" I squealed. "It was great! Until you, you know, getting expelled an all..." I said with a sheepish smile on my face.

"Ahh yes. I could see that," he responded laughing.

"And who is this?" Al said finally letting me go and glancing behind me at Grover who was standing behind us awkwardly.

"Un fidanzato, forse?" he spoke in italian with a smirk. **(All translations will be below)**

"No! E 'solo il mio amico!" I practically screamed. Grover is my friend _**nothing **_more.

Al's taught me Italian since I was little. It was practically my first language I knew it so well.

Aldo just laughed at me.

Butt.

Seriously he is always asking if I have a boyfriend. You would think it's his job, but really i'm 12 I do not need a boyfriend. I would much rather spend my life or at least till I am 16 playing sports and having fun with friends.

I know he's just teasing though. If I were to date anybody he would slap them with the hard cheese.

…Ok I really don't know what that means. I just saw it on a TV show I was watching a couple of days ago and I thought it sounded pretty cool.

But what I am trying to say is he is extremely over protective.

"This is Grover. He's my best friend from Yancy."

"Nice to meet you Grover," Al smiled. "I'm Aldo, but please call me Al."

He then proceeded to bring poor Grover into a hug. Grove looked to uncomfortable. It was hilarious.

"Ummm... Nice to meet you?" Ha poor, poor Grover.

"Nice to see you again Ally! I just stopped by to say hello. I'll come by again once I get settled ok?"

"Nice to see you to Percy. Next time I see you I have some new pizzas for you to try out!"

When he pulled me into one last hug he whispered in my ear, "Give Gabe hell for me will you?"

He hates Smelly Gabe just as much as I do. I can't blame him though the guy has some serious personality problems in my opinion.

… Wait alter that statement to 'in everyone's opinion'. **(Read A/N at the top please)**

Grover said goodbye, and we started walking the rest of the way to my apartment.

Once we got there though I made him stay outside. He protested saying that he wanted to walk me in and meet my mom and step-dad , but as much as I love Grover I have a feeling he would never want to come to visit if he met Smelly Gabe.

He seemed reluctant. Ok I take that back, he looked desperate. Like 'I will sell you my soul desperate'.

After a couple minutes of us arguing, well technically he was begging and I was denying him, I won and went up to my apartment alone.

As I walked into our little apartment, I was hoping with all heart that my mom would be home from work.

Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom?"

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes.

He had about three hairs on his head

Wait, I just counted. There are two hairs, and they both combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.

*Cough* It didn't *Cough*

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "Father-Daughter secret."

Meaning, if I told my mom, he would lock me in a closet like Harry Potter for a couple days.

"I don't have any cash," I told him. He raised a greasy eyebrow.

Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

It was probably because of his enormous nose. It was literally the sized of an overgrown cucumber.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he said. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Idiot.

I walked.

Not that I would tell him that losing 7 dollars is so much better than losing $20.

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kid just got here."

Enter offended scoff here.

Excuse me sir my IQ is higher than all yours put together. I'm emotionally older than all of them.

"Am I right?" Gabe repeated.

The other two guys passed gas in harmony.

"Fine," I said. I a couple bucks out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain girl!" he shouted after me. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

Oh. My. God. Seriously I got all A's.

I always knew he couldn't read.

I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home.

Gotta love sarcasm.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

Mrs. Dodds might be a creepy bat thingy and the yarn snipping might have made me feel sick, but Gabe's smell was like visiting a garbage dump with a person who hasn't showered in 3 weeks and had a wet dog.

She only beat his by a little.

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic when I made him go home instead of coming up to the apartment.

A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone -something- was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?"

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted from my heart.

My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt.

Think of when you drink hot chocolate and a surge of warmth goes through your body. That's what it feels like when she hugs you.

She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad.

I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe. Not saying anything bad to Gabe is an achievement all on its own.

"Oh, Percy." She hugged me tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!"

"Mom! I missed you so much!" I ran to hug her and buried my head into her sholder.

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little girl doing all right?

She knew I was fine academically, but getting kicked out was still hard on any kid. She didn't want tomake it any harder on me.

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally how about some bean dip, huh?"

I grit my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. Well, a new friend.

I'd done well in all my classes especially latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself.

I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Woah. I have some really good story telling skills.

Until that trip to the museum ...

"What?" my mom asked.

Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets.

"Did something scare you?"

I guess this is what Grover was always talking about when he saw me.

"No, Mom."

I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me.

"I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach."

My eyes widened. "Montauk?"

"Three nights-same cabin."

"When?"

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Most likely spent all on beer.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to punch him and make him hurt, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while.

Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

It would be hard, but it would also be soooo worth it.

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip." Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?" "I knew it," I muttered. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your step-father is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Go Mom! Bribery for the win!

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?" "Yes, honey," my mother said. "And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back." "We'll be very careful."

Mom.

'Honey'.

Really?

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.

Yes. That would be fun.

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad. This deal is being to become harder than I thought.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry," I said with a fake smile on my face. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His pencil tip sized brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement. "Yeah, whatever," he decided. He went back to his game.

My god! That was pure and utter sarcasm! How could he not see that. Ok, I know he's stupid, but this reaches a whole new level!

"Thank you, Percy," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

I swear to god, she can read minds.

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes-the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride-as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

An hour later we were ready to leave.

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking-and more important, his '78 Camaro for the whole weekend, and as much as I think the car is cool it does not excuse the fact that that was extremely rude.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain girl," he growled at me as I helped Mom load the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like I'd be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me.

It's amazing what his tiny brain can come up with when it comes to blaming me.

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the stair-case as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out. Mom sped off down the street before I had time to figure it out.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I loved the place. It felt like home to me. Well at least more than our apartment with Gabe.

We'd been going there ever year since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad.

She's a romantic at heart. I'm glad she hasn't forgotten about him too. He might have been barely been in my life, but she loved him at some point and he was still my dad even if he was never here.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea on a warm, sunny day.

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine.

It was excruciatingly painful by the way. Who like's cleaning?

We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano (I am incredibly thankful for that) was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.

Good for her! Being rebellious, even if only a little, is much more fun than being polite and perfect all the time. Who wants to be perfect anyway?

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs for my mom and cooked a hamburger for me, I can't stand hotdogs, and roasted marshmallows over the fire.

Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his his green eyes, you know. Always churning with emotion. Beautiful."

She whispered the last word while looking at the low falling waves on the shore.

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud."

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive girl, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years. I get great grades, but I have all those other issues to cover up the good.

"How old was I?" I asked. "I mean ... when he left?" That was one question I never asked thinking it would put her over the edge. If there was one thing I hated in the world other than Gabe of course it was seeing my mother cry.

She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

Ok, that's a bit awkward to think about.

"But... he knew me as a baby didn't he?"

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born."

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember ... something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me ...

I felt angry at my father. It was stupid I know, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom.

He'd left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe. I understand that it wasn't his fault, but really we all blame people for something from time to time, even if it isn't necessarily their fault.

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?"

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out. I felt my stomach drop when I said them.

My mom's eyes welled with tears.

Oh no...

She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I-I have to, Baby. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said that it was best for me to leave Yancy. "Because I'm not normal," I said.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy!"

"But Mom! It's every kids dream to fit in! Have friends! I have Grover, and as much as I love Grover he's my only friend I've had since first grade!

"Being abnormal and standing out might be great when we're older, but when your a kid all you want is to be normal!" I didn't want to argue with her, especially when she already looked like she was about to cry. But I was so sick and tired of people telling me it's good to be different, because really, to me, it kind of sucks to be different. It wasn't Mom's fault, but I just really needed to get that off my chest.

"Oh Percy," she said hugging me while at the same time trying to hold back tears," Baby, you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"Safe from what?"

Puling back form the hug she met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me hitting me like someone threw a dodgeball at my face all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy- the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it."

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?" "Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

My head was spinning. Why would my dad-who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born- talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before? Not to mention how could I stay at a summer camp all year for school? It's called _summer_ camp for a reason. How could they teach school on top of that?

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I-I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry even harder.

That night I had a vivid dream.

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons.

That must have hurt.

The horse reared up and kicked at the eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them screaming, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion and it was like my voice was put on mute. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No!

My voice finally worked, but before I could see what happened or if my cry stopped them I woke with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

As much as I loved storms this was a bit much for me.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane."

I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end like when you rub a balloon on it.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasped. "We need to leave. Now!" My mother looked at me in terror though she's not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly, and to add on to that how the heck did I know that it was ancient Greek?

I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be...

My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"

Grover ran for the Camaro but he wasn't running, exactly.

He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.

Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves.

What. The. Crap.

**()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()**

**READ AUTHORS NOTE AT THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVENT ALREADY**

**'Un fidanzato, forse?' = 'A boyfriend perhaps?'**

**'No! E 'solo il mio amico!' = 'No! He's just my friend!'**

**COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW**


	4. Goats, Bulls, and Giant Bat Things

**4 MY MOTHER TEACHES ME BULLFIGHTING **

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas.

It looked like millions of grey bouncy balls falling from the sky onto the car.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

"Grover, no offense but why are you... half goat?"

Graver's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "It doesn't matter right now!" he said loudly trying to speak over the pouring down rain. He looked worse than the did when we saw the fruit ladies.

To say the least. Not. Good.

"Uhhh hate to break it to you Grove, but it's kind of a huge deal! If I was half fish I think you would want to know what's going on!"

"We can talk about this later!"

"Fine then. At least tell me how you know my mom, because i'm 99% sure that I've never introduced you!"

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend."

"Grover I have no doubt your my friend the best friend I've ever had," I said, "but will you please tell me what's happening?

Grover hesitated a couple seconds before responding nervously, "Well you see- Someone- Well something- is sort of chasing yo- us..."

"Grover why did you say 'you'? I haven't done anything wrong! I swear! And why did that you say 'something'? It's human right! Is it like Mrs. Dodds?!"

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who I-wait a minute, what do you mean? Monster's don't exist, and what's the Mist?"

I realize I sounded like a little kid asking all these questions, but you can't blame me. If you just heard that something was coming after you, and your best friend was talking about monsters like they were real I bet you would freak out, too.

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after me?"

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

"Grover!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?"

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't a dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird.

Ok, that's a lie, I do have an imagination, but this is still out of my limits.

I think out side the box, but this is like thinking so far outside the box that I could touch the moon if I wanted to.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want me to go. I don't want to leave you."

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means-the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.' again"

"No I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in me."

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."

"Kids!" my mom said.

"Sorry mom," I said off handedly. "And the Fates are just some old myth is Greek mythology. They're not real!"

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

I didn't know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive. It felt like when your on a roller coaster, and they start counting down the time tell you take off.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from extremely delayed shock. She really hadn't been human.

She'd meant to kill me.

Dang. And all this time I thought I was a likeable person.

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner ... and the pen he had thrown me. Turning a pen turning into a sword is physically impossible. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.

I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and said, "Ow."

"Percy!" my mom shouted.

"Mom? I- I think I broke my leg..."

I tried to shake off the daze, my leg hurt like hell, but at least I wasn't dead.

The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Poor car. It did nothing wrong!

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!"

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

I moved to shake him, but when I moved felt a rush of pain go to my leg. I had to keep in my scream.

Because I couldn't get close enough to Grover I settled on picking up my hand and dropping it on his face.

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope.

"Percy," my mother said, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is-" "Percy," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

My mother threw herself against the driver's side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?"

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too."

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

"No!" I shouted. "You are coming with me!"

I ignored the pain so that I could push my self up enough to try to get out, but it was no use with Grover in the way so I brought my hand back and slapped him as hard as I could.

"Food!" Grover shouted as he finally woke up. "What happened?"

I just pointed at the man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands huge meaty hands-were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head... was his head. And the points that looked like horns...

"He doesn't want us," my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But..."

"We don't have time, Percy. Go. Please."

I got mad, then mad at my mother, at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull.

I told Grover to climb out of the car and help me out. "We're going together. Come on, Mom."

"I told you-"

"Mom! I am not leaving you."

I didn't wait for her answer. I pushed Grover outside. He was surprisingly light. He tried to help me out after I told him about my leg, but I was to heavy for him. Not that I was heavy, but he just woke up from fainting and was in a car crash so he was still pretty weak.

He probably would have managed to pull me out right as the monster got to us without the help of my mom.

After Mom told Grover to run ahead to get help she put her arm around me and we started stumbling uphill through wet waist high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein webbed skin.

All in all he was pretty disgusting.

He wore no clothes except underwear-I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns enormous black and white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real. Then again neither should have been Mrs. Dodds.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's-"

"Pasiphae's son," my mother said.

"I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you."

"Thank you for that comforting thought, but he's the Min-"

"Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power."

The pine tree was still way too far a hundred yards uphill at least. I glanced behind me again.

The bull man hunched over our car, looking in the windows or not looking, exactly.

More like snuffling, nuzzling like a dog would.

I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away, maybe he was just as stupid as Gabe.

No. That's impossible.

"Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

Maybe luck is on our side for once. I should have know that is was to good to last.

As if on cue, the bull man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed intothe wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

Oops.

As much as I love the car, Gabe's misery was so much sweeter.

"Percy," my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me."

"Keeping me near you? But-"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull man started tromping uphill. He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker.

The Minotaur closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted, but she kept her arm around me as I limped up the hill with her. "Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right it was our only chance. I ran as fast as I could, well as fast as I could with a hurt leg, to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like the trash from Aldo's place.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side, and rolled.

The bull man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was trying to climb over to me without being seen. That obviously hadn't worked.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it, but I could see four figures making their way out of the house. Grover must have gotten help. I just hope they get here quickly.

The bull man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from me.

"Run, Percy!" she told me. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!" She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she was simply... gone.

"No!"

Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons. I was holding in tears. My anger might have replacedmy fear, but itcouldn't dissolve my sadness.

The bull man started to snuffle around again, but hadn't had time to find me yet.

Well who's to delay the inevitable.

I stripped off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

On a completely unrelated note I thought that was a pretty good nickname.

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

Ok, maybe this wasn't the best thing I could have thought of.

I had an idea a stupid idea, but most of the good ideas I have are stupid so I only hope that this one will turn out all right.

I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull man.

The bull man charged faster than expected, but nothing to bad. His arms were out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.

And I slid under the monster water slide style.

The monster rammed into the tree milliseconds after I slid out, which was a very good thing because at the same time he hit the tree his legs locked together and he fell to his knees.

The bull man staggered around, trying to shake his horns out of the tree. They had been rammed in when he hit it.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Even better.

I cautiously walked up to the Minotaur, used my good leg and arms to climb up it's back. It was hard, but I needed him to jerk his head up.

I knew I wasn't strong enough to pull the horn off, but I had something else in mind.

When I got to the top of his head I did the only thing I could think of.

I poked him in the eye.

The bull man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I could make out a horn in the tree. Perfect.

The monster charged.

Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove towards the tree an pulled it out with strength it didn't know I had.

When I got it out I looked behind me to see him charging again. I didn't have time to think of something to do, so I dropped to slide again, but as he learned with my mom he learned with me and reached down to grab me by the neck just as he had done before.

I struggled, but it was no us so I did the only thing I could think of. I stabbed the horn into the beasts neck.

The bull man roared in agony, and he dropped me to the ground.

He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone, but he was sure to leave me with a few parting gifts such as: broken leg, probable concussion, and more bruises then I can count.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but I don't think I could stay awake long enough.

The last thing I remember is looking up at the starry sky with worried faces looking down at me of a familiar looking bearded man and pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's, a hansome blond boy with sky blue eyes, and Grover's scared eyes. They all looked down at me, and the girl said, "She's the one. She must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "She's still conscious. Luke carry her to the big house please."


	5. History Lesson

**Ok so I'm going on vacation the day after tomorrow for 2 weeks and I don't know if I'll be able to update so sorry if an update doesn't come soon. Follow, Favorite, and Comment! Thanks for reading!**

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**5 I PLAY PINOCHLE WITH A HORSE **

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. It sounded like someone was speaking through a wall of jello.

I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoonfed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovered over me, looking at me with worried eyes as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she saw my eyes open, she asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

I managed to croak, "What?"

She looked around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What do you know?"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I don't..."

Somebody knocked on the door, and the girl quickly filled my mouth with pudding.

The next time I woke up, the girl was gone, and I can't say I was sorry. She seemed nice enough, but there was something off about her.

She reminded me of honey with a bug in it. It might look sweeton the outside, but on the inside there is something nasty.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes at least a dozen of them on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except for the fact that I've never seen them before.

I was laying sideways on a comfy chair in what looked like a guest room with huge open windows covering almost half of the wall beside me.

Outside across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck.

All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper umbrella stuck through a maraschino cherry. All in all it looked amazing.

My hand was so weak I dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. Luckly someone was there and caught it before it hit the ground.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover, Not the goat boy. With him was the blond boy who I saw before I passed out.

Woah. I passed out. That's kind of embarrasing.

Anyway he was holding my glass.

My glass. Well, at least I hope it's my glass. It looks to good for me not to drink it. Holding it from me would be torture.

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I... well, the least I could do ... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap.

Inside was a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare. I had been hoping it had been a nightmare.

"The Minotaur," I said.

"Urn, Percy, it isn't a good idea-"

"The Minotaur. Half man, half bull. That's what came after me and Mom. Why did it come after us?" Grover shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't think I should be the one to explain that to you."

"Grover please," I begged with a desperate look on my face. "What's going on?"

He looked down.

"I'm sorry, we'll take you to Chiron as soon as you drink that," he said pointing at the drink in the blond boy's hand.

I completley forgot he was there.

Now that I look at him he looked about fourteen, two years older than me, and about 5' 6". He had dirty blond hair that stuck up in the front, kind of like Al's, and had the body of a runner. His eyes were a bright blue, contrasing what they looked like a couple nights ago (sky blue for those who don't remember), but I have to say this color suited him better. He looked like the type of person I could be friends with.

Now don't get me wrong, I was not checking him out, or staring at him like a creep or whatever, I just glanced at him, then looked and nodded at Grover every once in a while as he kept talking about something as I went over the boys image in my head.

When I came to my senses and started actually listening to Grover his first words sent me into another state of shock.

"- I'm really sorry about your mom, too-

"My mom's dead..." I said finally realizing what had happened those few nights ago, and it hit me like an elephant on steroids. "She's really gone. Never coming back. I'll never see her again."

I stared trough the window across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

I know that sounds cynical, but I think I have a pretty good reason for it.

I looked down feeling tears pricking in my eyes. I hated when people saw me cry.

When I looked up Grover's eyes were filled with guilt and sympathy while the blue-eyed boy's just held understanding.

Grover moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

Well, that explains why he didn't have goat legs at school.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled. Thunder rolled across the clear sky. As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot.

I wanted to get off the topic of my mom, it just hurt too much, so I said, "So your a saytarhuh?"

The blond buy snorted, but shut up when Grover gave him a look. Though when Grover turned back around he winked at me. I had to bite my already throbbing tounge to stop myself from making the same mistake he did.

I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaurs. All that meant was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

Minotaurs. Satyrs. Mrs. Dodds.

Crap. I'm believing in monsters now.

Grover was still sniffling. The poor kid poor goat, satyr, whatever looked as if he expected to be hit.

I said, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"And you did protect me! Without you I would be dead at our cabin in Montauk! Mom died protecting me and I couldn't live with myself if you did too." My voice started fading toward the end when I thought of losing Grover too.

The blond boy looked uncomfortable in the background.

I really need to learn his name.

I sat up during my mini speech to Grove I sat up quickly, and suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming. "Don't strain yourself," Grover said hurridly. "Here."

He went on to tell BB (Blond boy) to help me get a hold my glass and put the straw to my lips. It looked like something he had done many times, but at the same time it was done with a certain care like I would break if a feather landed on me.

When I took a sip I was surprised at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice, but it wasn't that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. And not just any cookies my mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting.

Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy.

My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay. It was an amazing feeling

Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

Apparently whatever was happening also included ice-cubes not melting in a warm drink.

"Was it good?" Grover asked. I nodded. "What did it taste like?" He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

"My mom's blue cookies," I said whistfully until I snapped out of my daze and ,"Sorry," with a sheepish smile on my face. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just... wondered."

"Wait did you say blue cookies?" asked the blue eyed boy speaking for the first time with a curious look in his eyes.

He sighed. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could take a 6 hour english test and not get a headache."I smiled

"That's good," he laughed. "But I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff"

"What do you mean? It's just a drink Grover. It's not like it could kill me."

He took the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

Well that was rude he completely ignored my question.

I went to get out of bed and when my feet touched the floor I realized something.

My leg wasn't broken!

"Grover? How is my leg fine? I thought you said I was only out for a couple days? It's not possible for it to be better by now even if it was just a sprain! And I'm pretty sure I broke it!"

"Ohhh uhhhh... We had the Apollo cabin fix it up for you."

"The who?"

"Nevermind, come on lets go see Chiron," he resigned. "Luke," ahh so that was his name, it suits him, "can you run ahead and tell him she's on her way?"

"Ya, ok. Bye Grover, Percy." he said as he ran off.

You know it's really kind of weird when someone knows your name, but you don't know theirs. I know his name now, but I only learned it a couple minutes ago.

When we finally made our way outside I recognized the view I saw from the window, but seeing it outside, in the fresh air made it look so much more beautiful than it had been before.

We were on a white wooden porch that wrapped all the way around the farmhouse.

And as we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath.

Wow.

We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance.

Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing.

The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture with an open air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena-except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun.

In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball.

Well I know I won't be playing that. I suck at volleyball.

Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

It was the most beautiful place i've ever seen. Including pictures.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoon fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them talking with Luke.

She looked as though she was blushing.

Ohhh someone has a crush I though as I smirked. Grover gave me a look, but I ignored him and went on to examine the two people I didn't know.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose that reminded me of Roudoph, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of cherubs from ancient Greece, but instead of wearing diapers he had a tiger print hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts which were in no way flattering on him.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me in my ear. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that'sAnnabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. The boy is Luke Castellan who you've all ready met, and he's in the same situation as Annabeth. And you already know Chiron..."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cried. I know Grover had said his name was Chiron, but I've know him as Mr. Brunner for the last year so it's kind of hard to call him something else.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B. Some times I think he's a evil mastermind trying to trick us into putting the wrong answers on tests.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle. How do you feel my girl?"

"Much better thank you," I smiled as he offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh.

"Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Well arn't you just a ray of sunshine." I said sarcasticly but shut up when Grover gave me the same look as he gave Luke earlier.

Dang Grover can be scary when he wants too.

Mr. D just ignored my comment and continued sipping his... is that Diet Coke?

Gross.

That stuff is disqusting.

"Annabeth? Luke?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl and Luke.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting her in cabin eleven for now."

She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image.

They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

They kind of reminded me of the piece of yarn the Fates cut, but this color was lighter and seemed more innocent. Not innocent. No defindly not inoccent, but more so than the string's color.

Annabeth said completly ignoreing me, "Sure, Chiron. Luke you want to come?"

"Actually my dear Luke is going to help me show Percy around. We will meet you there in a couple minutes."

She glanced at the minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me and I could have sworn I saw her glare at me, but when I do a double take she was smiling at Chiron.

She turned back to me and said, "You drool when you sleep."

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here uhhh... Chiron?"

"Yes," the ex-Mr. Brunner said laughing. "I'm afraid that Mr. Brunner was a pseudonym. "

"Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D... does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young lady, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, but I don't think telling me your name will cause the end of the world Old Man," I retorted glaring with my arms crossed. Even Grover's look couldn't stop me.

This guy was an ass.

"I must say, Percy," Chiron broke in trying to reduce the tention because Mr. D looked like his already huge nose was about to burst, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time, but from the things I've seen I don't think I have."

Well, I wasn't sure if I should be insulted or flattered by that so I just ignored it and went with the obvious question.

"House call?"

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to... ah, take a leave of absence."

I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

t's weird because I usually have a great memory, but I can barely remember that.

It's like someone stuck a layer of cotton candy between me and the memory and I can make out bits and peices but nothing was clear.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn you were oblivious to monsters or anything else in our world. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Well thank you for that it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach when you said that," I said.

"Percy our world is dangerous, there is no telling what could come about. Almost everyone else outside of this camp doesn't know anything, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Even Luke didn't know anything until he was almost 9 years old, and some never even find out."

"What is 'our world' though! I still have no idea what your talking about!"

"Percy-"

Chiron tried to say until Mr. D cut him off saying, "Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"Excuse me! We were having a conversation here!"

"And I interuppted you, do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes. Do you?"

"Yes." he growled.

"Are you sure that's not the alcohol talking?" I snapped.

"Well," he told me, "I happen to be great at pinochle, and I know I can beat a little twelve-year-old girl like you."

"Excue me, I don't lose. The only thing I do at card games is win Old Man."

"Do you know who I am!"

"No! Because someone refuses to tell me their name!" At this I heard Luke, who had been keeping in a laugh, snort from beside me.

Chiron was looking fairly amused, but also looked ready to step in to stop us from killing eachother.

Grover just looked like he was about to pee his pants.

"Well maybe you don't deserve to know my name Penny Johnson!"

"My name is Percy Jackson! Maybe the reason you won't tell me your name is because your too stupid to remember it!"

"Your lucky I don't destroy you on the spot!"

"If it meant gettinng away from you i'd be happy to!"

"Ok" Chiron said nervously trying to get us to stop fighting, "How's about we start the game now!"

Mr. D and I mumbled in resign and slumped in our chairs with our arms crossed.

As we began to play Chiron started to explain what was going on and where I was.

"Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"-he pointed to the horn in the shoe box-"that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods the forces you call the Greek gods are very much alive."

I started laughing histarically at that and had to take gasps inbetween words when I said," That's- not- possible.- Their just a- myth.-" But when I looked up at the people around me all I saw was four serious faces.

Well three serious faces and one with a completely bored expression on it.

"But they're stories," I said. "They're-myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Persephone Jackson"

-I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody I swear he was trying to make me hate me-

"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this girl and tell me. The only thing different form her and the people a thousand years ago is that she seems to have more of a mouth on her. And I am not saying that as a good thing."

"Percy," Chiron said ignoring him, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron's voice made me hesitate. It gave me something interesting to think about for later.

"The gods never died Percy," he said as a conclusion.

"Look i'm sorry, but I don't believe in gods," I said.

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D grumbled. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover said, "P-please, sir. She's just lost her mother. She's in shock."

"No, I just hate him," shrugged.

Luke laughed again, "Chiron I like her! Can we keep her!" He said as if he say a dog he wanted.

Mr. D grumbled under his breath a bunch of words I couldn't understand, but I had a feeling it wasn't very nice and played a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with girls who don't even believe.'"

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up. "Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions." Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!" More thunder.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time-well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away-the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tear-ing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair."

Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid. "And ..." I stammered, "your father is ..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this girl the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master.

"Ok 1: Chiron did an amazing job taeching me so don't blame it on him! You just look absolutly nothing like a god, more like a homless baby with a beard ok? And 2: You're Dionysus?," I said. "The god of wine."

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?" "Y-yes, Mr. D."

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" "

"If you were Aphrodite I would be very dissapointed, but you being the God of Wine explains a lot."

He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life, but the thing is... messing with him is soooo worth it.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"Yes. Yes sir I would."

He lifted his hand to most likely turn me into dust but Chiron stopped him by pushing his hand down.

The fire died a little, but was still burning with passionate hate.

He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

"Excuse me fella's, but I think this game goes to me," I said smirking as I layed down my cards. Chiron was smiling as was Grover. Luke had an impressed look on his face, and Mr.D just looked plain annoyed. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners."

He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Grover will be ok won't he? He didn't do anything wrong. I sent him to get help," I asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"He can be nicer? He seems pretty attached to this personality if you ask me."

"Wait did you say Olympus? As in Mount Olympus?" I said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like ... in America?"

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

"The what?"

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know or as I hope you know, since you passed my course the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either- America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club.

"Who are you, Chiron? Who am I? _ What am I?_"

Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

"Who doesn't?" I asked.

"Not me!" Luke yelled at the top of his lungs as he raised his hand. Then he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Watch this."

And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

"... Your a centar..."


End file.
